


The Workshop

by arisanite



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dub!Con, Dubious Consent, Entrapment, F/M, Instructor/Student, Interrogation, Interview Magazine, Roleplay, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 03:11:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8187301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arisanite/pseuds/arisanite
Summary: The "Nightmare Workshop for Waylaid Artists". That's what it should have been called. An uninspired writer is enrolled by her boss in a "Creative Workshop". However, what seemed to be a seminar for artists, turns out to be something else. Like a BDSM den?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from being part of [Sunday Smut Spotlight: Freak on a Leash](http://twh-sss.tumblr.com/post/151058633251/sss-call-for-fic-freak-on-a-leash), this whole story is inspired by Tom Hiddleston's Interview Mag Photoshoot set. Because who ever says no to Leather!Tom?

 

_“The Nightmare Workshop for the Waylaid Artists.”_

Well that’s what I would have called it.

 

A waylaid artist… or writer for that fact. At least, that is what my boss called me. Well, I couldn’t help it if my current project had me focus on underground gaming and the sort, causing me to check out the same apps and getting immersed in them. And my boss couldn’t help it if she called me an “uninspired cuntless whore” since we’re close friends, known each other for a long time, and was frustrated with me not writing my gossip fiction features in our editions in the same smutty way as before…

I mean who could help it if the spark is gone?

So she said that she’s going to send me to a “bootcamp”.

I didn’t realize that she meant it to be literally a “bootcamp”.

I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee that day when I had to turn up at this decrepit looking building at the south, busy side of town. I should have had my boss check out the place first before actually signing me up for this, but amidst that knowing smirk she was wearing and that glint on her eye when she was talking to the workshop registry assistant, I knew I just couldn’t argue.

I was barely even myself to even question why I had to knock on this weird-looking metal door with a moveable slot at someone beyond a 5’3”s eye-level. This was getting weirder and my lack of caffeine isn’t helping me figure it all out at all.

“State your business?” A very formal sounding voice spoke to me through the slot.

For God’s sake. If this was an official workshop, why do they have to talk to me through a square hole? The last workshop I attended had ushers and a large lobby surrounded by glass windows. Why the fuck am I not sharp enough to just walk away from this?

“I’m here for the artist’s workshop?” I mutter sleepily at the suspicious pair of brown eyes that eyed me from top to bottom.

I didn’t really feel the need to dress up, but considering it was a workshop and a formal event (as I would usually expect), I was wearing a pleated black blazer over a regular white button-down blouse and a boring black pencil skirt. I wonder if the person behind the door thought if I dressed down too much and would send me back to my furious boss-slash-editor…

Luckily, she slammed the metal door shut in my face, making me wonder what the hell is this workshop even about.

A creaking sound could be heard and I suddenly found myself facing a sleek, modern office with a spacious waiting room.

I walked in, trailing this tall, attractive brunette dressed in a sharp, white one-piece double breasted dress to one of those gray sofas that were in complete contrast of the creamy beige of the wallpapers decorating the floor.

“I believe you are –“ she mentioned my name in this crisp accent that definitely wasn’t American, nor it was English or any European language I am familiar with. It just so happened that I couldn’t put a finger on it. “You have been registered for a three day workshop by Amelia Marabylis, focusing on the writing segment.”

Oh dearest Amelia.

She has been my senior colleague whom I got along really well during my first few years, before she was promoted as a Senior Editor and she suddenly became this sadistic bitch she is now. Well I mean it with nothing but fondness, and she’d often say that she does this out of “tough love”. Bitch knows what she is putting me through and I swear to god when this is over, I’ll be screaming in her face.

“I need you to sign a waiver right here,” that tall glass of water spoke as she pushed the hard-copy version of the contract (that I roughly scanned in PDF much earlier, completely not paying attention to the waiver part) towards me on this minimalist black coffee table that stood in front of us.

I picked up the six-page contract and found the waver at the last page. My eyebrows shot up as I read the part where it had a non-disclosure policy about the “activities done within the workshop” nor to disclose the “location of the workshop company”.

Holy hell, Amelia! What the fuck did you sign me up for?

However, it was too late to question my boss now. After all, my writing is comparable to a “dry, limp cock” and honestly – I agree with her. I’ve been gaming too much and cussing at n00bs all day to get to the bottom of the server drama to even cater to my sexual needs anymore… unlike before. Some days I feel like I’m turning into Penny during her World of Warcraft binge addiction with a cheeto stuck in her hair. But no, I didn’t reach that obsession stage, thank god.

After finishing up by reading the disclaimer and the company’s assurance of one’s safety, I consented to the entire workshop event by signing my name on the dotted line.

The girl who was wearing the complete contrast of my attire gave me a curt nod, before pressing her two fingers on the paper I flattened on the table and mechanically spinning it around in her direction in an attempt to pick it up from the surface.

She stood up gracefully, causing me to follow her movements, as she led me towards a series of gray doors at the end of the hall.

Following the clack of her heels as I held on to my purse, I had to pause as she stopped in front of a gray door, before grabbing onto its steel handle. She turned to me and eyed me from head to toe before turning it. I tried to ignore the fact that she seemed to be quietly inspecting me, despite the questions in my head.

In fact, I had too many inquiries I just couldn’t voice out (whether due to the lack of caffeine or the fact that I’m not going to find out nonetheless, with how uptight this receptionist seemed to be) – _Where are the other participants? Why is this place so quiet? Why am I the only one in the lobby? Why is the place so obscure and yet seemingly so classy within the unpainted walls of the building?_

_Why does everything seem so suspicious?_

 

“Please abide by the rules written in the contract and do remember the non-disclosure agreement,” I swear I must have saw a small grin hidden in her smirk. However, that might just be my imagination.

Without saying another word, she turned the handle and opened the door.

Half of the room was dark and dim, though I could make out a dark window that stood right across the room and a small file cabinet that stood in the corner. The only light source that was currently in the room was shining on one lonely chair that stood in front of a slightly illuminated desk… that stands empty.

I couldn’t help but frown at the entire scene.

Despite giving the brunette receptionist a questioning look, she shot me a grave expression along with a mystic smile painted on her red lips. The gesture just couldn’t push me to inquire even more as I just stepped inside the supposed “work” room to wait for my instructions.

“We hope that the Workshop Company _does you good_ ,” she said with a bit of flair, her lip curving upward as she smiled. “We mean it in a very _artistic_ manner.”

I find myself nodding at her peculiarly, seemingly confused as she closed the door in my face.

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of pot Amelia was smoking in order to discover an utterly weird event like this.

I turned around, clutching my purse, trying to calm myself that _darkness is just darkness_ with the sound of my clacking heels peculiarly comforting me from that thought. I was glancing around trying to find another switch that would open the rest of the lights so that I can properly search the table of pamphlets or study books that I could use for this “workshop”, considering that I would have to _write_ something while I’m here.

Leaving my purse on the chair with that ominous spotlight, I began to grope the walls and found a familiar tell-tale knob.

I flicked it and the rest of the lights turned on.

 

“ _Ehem._ ”

 

Apparently, I was not alone.

 

As I turned around, my first instinct was to check if my purse was still where I left it. Of course it is. What I didn’t notice was this lean, muscled figure sitting on _another chair_ right across the table from mine.

_So that was what the darkness was hiding._

My eyes squinted through the light, trying to adjust, trying to figure out if this was one of the candidates or my instructor –

 

“Uhm, excuse me –“

 

My eyes began to clear as I noticed the clipped dirty blonde hair, his slouched body wearing a crisp long-sleeved blouse that seemed to be a size too large for his body, and long black slacks that followed the shape of his widely parted legs… It was all topped off by this thick leather black belt snapped around his waist with his hand suggestively dangling in front of that large, bulging –

My breath hitched.

I suddenly realized who he is.

 

My finger shook as I pointed in his direction. “Y-You –“

 

I swore I saw a glint in those blue eyes as a menacing smile appeared on that supposedly handsome face.

It was _him_.

I’m quite sure that it was.

He used to be the subject of all my dirty writing in that publication, although I never named him. I do believe that Amelia has an idea though… but I never admitted it. Despite being such a famous face with a reserved personality, I just couldn’t bring myself to name him in my writings. It was merely a sexual fantasy column to appease the thirst of women my age and beyond, and I never thought of getting myself known and possibly in trouble with his people but…

I just couldn’t help it.

This _Adonis_ was a self-made man and despite being _supposedly_ quiet and mysterious about his personal life; he oozed with sexual appeal that would make women with imaginative minds go wild. There was something in the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he commanded himself, the way he conversed with people and the way he did things to people… His eloquence and his never ending flirtatiousness with _anyone_ …

Let’s be honest here – maybe he was the reason I got into that column. I wouldn’t be writing in the first place if the publication did not notice my short stories… and I wouldn’t have my own column if Amelia didn’t like reading them…

Maybe he was the reason I started writing…

And probably also the reason I stopped.

Well I didn’t really stop. It’s just that… his interests in the public eye somewhat changed and my interest shifted… I just didn’t like to write about _him_ anymore.

Well, considering my situation and the circumstances… looks like I’m going to start writing about him again. _If_ I get out of this circumstance in one piece.

 

_What even is this workshop?!!_

 

Trying to hurdle my thoughts into one place as I feel my legs somewhat buckling, I tried to speak again, despite that menacing handsome grin slowly eating into my brain –

“I’m sorry but, what exactly are you doing here –“

The way he suddenly moved, his thighs snapping closed with his thick soled boots making this resounding _clack_ on the floor, suddenly caused me to blink with shock as I watched him rise to his full height – Definitely something that towered above my small frame.

 

“I am your Instructing Officer.”

 

I unabashedly gaped at him with complete disbelief.

_Am I fucking dreaming or is this a nightmare or –_

 

Somewhere in the back of my head, I could tell that Amelia would have probably paid a fortune for this workshop. I mean, was she that desperate to get new _juicy material_ from me? To actually enroll me in a _dubious_ workshop with this _sex god_ as an instructor?

 

I mean, _would she even go that far?_

 

How much money did that woman throw down the drain?

 

“You are to address me as _Sir_ at all times during this workshop,” he said crisply in that clear and sound English Accent, as I had to snap out of my thoughts, with those eyes threatening to melt the insides of my head with how he gazed at me. “And you are required to adhere to the rules of your commanding instructor.”

He managed to circle the desk and stand so close that I’m almost glaring right into that broad chest.

“And what if I don’t?” I found myself uttering in retaliation, as if I even dared to question him.

The curved smile suddenly disappeared on those thin lips as a frown began to form on his face. Trapping me against the wall, he spoke so close to my face as I could feel the gust of his breath touching my cheeks as he leaned down to look me in the eye.

“You would have to consider that the results of this workshop would be considered nil,” he whispered in my ear, the coldness in his tone sending a shiver down my spine. Not to mention the fact that he was so close that I could feel the buckle of his belt digging into my waist for some reason, along with the smell of his tangerines from his cologne that was messing with my head… “And of course, the reports would be sent directly to your editor – the person who enrolled you here.”

He licked his lips, seeing the horror in my eyes. Yes, of course I wouldn’t want to upset Amelia. That woman could sure throw a tantrum.

But then again I remember how much Amelia loved cruel, high-end pranks…

“So,” the glare in his eyes had softened and suddenly, something seems to be stroking my arm, causing my entire body to stiffen up. “Shall we help each other? It’s so simple,” he sighed, as I felt his chest move against mine, realizing how he had moved so close to stand next to me, pressed against the goddamn surface of that fucking wall. “I promise that your editor receives good results on your _exercises_ , while you do _exactly what I say._ ”

 

I just can’t look in those eyes.

 

I might give away how confused I was with these mixed feelings of horror and… is that excitement? Why the hell do I feel excited? Do I actually like –

 

“Are we clear?” The officer barked.

I felt a lump move down my throat.

 

“ _Yes sir._ ”

 

The bastard bit his lip as he managed to run his long, spindly, wandering fingers that was tracing the outside of my forearms up my shoulder only to smoothen out the edge of my collar with his thumb and index finger.

“Very well,” he said in a breathy whisper as he stepped back to give me air, those half-lidded eyes glancing at me once before retracting back to the room.

The moment he turned with his broad back to my face, I had to let out a sigh. If I haven’t had any control, I might have slid down the wall due to the jelly state of my legs. Seriously, if I managed to standd that close in the presence of this _asshole Adonis_ , I’d just degenerate into a pile of goo on the floor.

Honestly speaking in hindsight? I didn’t know how it happened, but yes, I will eventually be a _literal pile of goo on the floor_. But more of that for later.

Trying to gather my wits, I tried to calm down and follow his lead as he walked back towards the center of the room, with his hands behind his back. I was about to collect my purse from my supposed seat, when all of a sudden, this tall intimidating specimen suddenly turned around and started acting like a true officer in some sort of an investigation.

Or was this an inspection?

 “There are to be three stages to your module,” he stated. “And each are supposed to help with your ‘sloppy production’ –“

A jaw drop, an eyebrow raise, and definitely crossed arms were the reply to this statement. However, I did not expect that boyish smile suddenly appearing on his face accompanied by a little chuckle.

“Not my words,” he said, shaking his head. “And of course, they did mention your ‘lack of motivation.’ Considering all of that; this module has been designed _specifically for you_ ,” he licked his lips. “And I am the one tasked to administer every single stage for you.”

_Designed specifically for me?_

My eyes widened in horror as he returned to his seat, sitting in that whorish manner with his legs spread apart… in such an inviting manner I tried so hard to ignore. But I just couldn’t escape those deep sea blue eyes that seemed to undress me every time…

He gestured to the chair in front of him, to which I complied by sitting on it.

“Be mindful that my methods will be somewhat unorthodox by other’s standards,” his voice echoed in what was designed to look an interrogation room. “But I’m quite sure that you will appreciate it.” He winked in such a manner that made my blood boil.

“Our lesson for today, dear author,” he said with a twinkle in those azure eyes. “Is utilizing the power of the senses.”

An eyebrow shot up past my bangs.

I do get the point of an author having to absorb all his/her knowledge from the world around them but… I’m quite sure this is not some bizarre hands-on exam where the proctor is dressed up like some sort of modern day inquisitor without all the red?

“I’m sorry –“ I initially tried to retort again, to no avail.

He opened his mouth as he looked back without blinking. “An artist has to draw inspiration from anything and everything around him or her,” he answered, slowly unfolding himself from his seated position. “And this means having to use all your available senses…”

He was suddenly shadowing me once more as I felt these strong big hands landing gently on my shoulders as they move towards my neck. For a moment I was scared that as his two hands met on the base of my collar, my imagination went towards an image of myself choking, gasping for air – but then again I had to chastise my brain for going in that direction. I mean, this is a workshop for God’s sake, how bad can it get –

I couldn’t deny how my body seemed to think otherwise as I felt it shudder once his hands reached my chin, tipping my face up to look at him.

 

“First order of business,” he whispered closely. “Is a security check.”

 

I look back at this moment and wonder how ridiculous I looked with my deer-in-headlights expression. I wonder if he felt the same about me. But considering what he did –

 

I suddenly was hauled up to my feet by two strong arms, as he suddenly moved so fast to slip my blazer off my arms, having it thrown on the marbled floor.

I suddenly find myself tiptoeing with my arms being stretched as he held my hands high up against my head.

“What –“ I stuttered. “What are you doing –“

I could hear his breathing as he whispered in my ear, with his hands pressed against my curves, making me sweat underneath my clothes. “I apologize since they did not provide me with a hand-held metal detector, _love_ ,” the term of endearment slickly resounded in my now baffled and astounded brain that was trying to process everything that was happening. “ _So I’m afraid I have to use my hands on you to get this job done._ “

Something within those eyes seemingly changed as he subtly fumbled for something in his pocket.

Still holding my hands up high, he seemingly pointed a small remote that fits perfectly in his palm somewhere in the room, as I heard this beeping noise right above my head. Something suddenly retracted from the ceiling as a black-roped suspension dangled above our heads, giving the Officer ease upon tying my wrists on this perfectly designed contraption that was hidden in the ceiling the whole time.

“Well isn’t that perfect,” he hissed through gritted teeth as I could tell how he was wanting to rush this procedure out of excitement over the fact that I am about to lose control of my hands.

He stepped back to admire his work as he came face to face with a surprised looking woman with rumpled clothes, almost tiptoeing on the floor, with her hands tied high up on the suspended contraption.

On the other hand, I had come face to face with a devil with his parted lips, dilated pupils, and those eyes that seemed to tear past the clothes attached to my skin.

 

And what horrified me is the fact that I seem to actually like this.

 

“Why so anxious, doll?” He whispered, a ghost of a smile treading on his lips. “Haven’t you wrote about this before? In one of those delicious stories you published on your magazine?”

 

Oh yes.

Go ahead.

Talk about one of my sexual fantasies involving leather, a whip, and bondage at a time like this.

I felt my knees weaken realizing that I’m in that exact situation.

I then feel my cheeks burn red.

 

“You like that idea huh,” he chuckled underneath his breath, the grin spreading all over those handsome lips now. “And yet you insist on remaining in your writer’s block.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, as for a fleeting second, that devious grin on his face disappeared.

_Does this suggest that he actually reads my stuff?_

I began to sweat in the supposedly airconditioned room.

_Then if he reads my stuff then he probably have read –_

 

I am so dead.

 

However, the officer seemed to have placed his focus somewhere else, ignoring the petrified expression on my face. “Since you’re stubborn about not writing,” he spoke, causing me to gape at him. _How could he know about my refusal to write smut? Did Amelia tell him –_

The gasp that came out of my mouth was so loud when he suddenly grabbed my ass through my skirt.

 

“ ** _How about we make your words a reality?_** ”

 

Before I could retort – his hands were now all over my body.

 

He was grabbing my curves, those fingers digging deep in the fabric as if he wanted to tear them off me – I had to gasp when I realized that fact that _maybe he did intend to tear them off my person_.

I felt my heels brushing hard against the floor as two hands grabbed the cheeks of my ass, kneading them.

Thank God he didn’t see how my eyes widened as he began to hike my skirt upwards, trying to feel the softness of my skin against the palm of his hands. A haunting groan filled the air as he dug his fingers into the meat of my skin.

“You and I have the same fantasies, doll,” he whispered close, as I felt my body being pressed against his muscled frame, hidden underneath that large dress shirt. “You get to write them while I get to read them…”

 

My head started to spin.

 

The muse actually reads my texts after texts of lust and taboo?

Well that’s new.

 

What he said next made my insides twitch with so much _need_.

 

“Do you have any idea,” he growled against my ear, his lips so close I can feel them brushing against my earlobe. “How disappointed I was when I didn’t see any publications under your name anymore?”

I swear I was silently praying in my head, asking for him not to go _that_ far or else he’ll discover how wet I was in between my legs.

He must have felt my nipples harden against my shirt, considering the fact that my breasts were pressed against his chest at that exact moment.

“Well,” that smooth English accent cooed. “Something of yours needs some delicate attention.”

I shook my head. “You don’t really have to –“

He seemed to ignore me. “You don’t have to go this far,” I barked through gritted teeth. I have no idea what ever the fuck Amelia put me into, and I suddenly realize that maybe there were weight to her words when she said

“Can’t we have another exercise?” I murmured. “Something more chaste?”

The way he glared back was enough to illicit a small squeak from my mouth.

“I did warn you that I have unorthodox methods –“

 

_Slap!_

 

My breath had to hitch upon realizing that he had just slapped my ass with an open hand. What I didn’t realize was how much he loved watching the meat jiggle, but I did realize how the bulge in his pants got bigger.

He smirked at me. “And I refuse to believe that you’d like to have a _chaste alternative to all this_ ,” he growled in your ear as you felt your flesh sting once more.

 

_Slap!_

 

He was glowering back now, sweating with labored breathing, looking slick and dangerous. And deliciously angry in that formal uniform that was slowly becoming rumpled with such activities. “And why would I risk a chaste activity?” He said as he sarcastically chuckled. “Just so you’d create more mediocre narratives?”

I glowered at him.

“You kinky assh –“

_Slap!_

 

This time I felt myself bending to his touch, causing my crotch to slam into his, suddenly making me realize that _this bulge I am feeling against the fabric of his clothes_ must be _more than what it looks_.

_Tut tut_.

 

He clucked his tongue as the fire in those blue eyes slowly burned my exposed skin. However, the beet red on my cheeks only burned into a deeper color upon watching him retract all his hands from my body as he watched me limply tug on the suspension on my wrists. He probably has an idea how embarrassed I look with all of this. And he knew how secretly turned on I was as he slowly began to unravel his tie from his neck…

“I can’t afford having you use a potty mouth in this exercise, love,” he expressed crossly as he removed the tie from his collar. “So as much as I would love hearing your voice, it seems like I would have to teach you a lesson.”

My pupils widened as he suddenly wrapped the tie around my head, blocking my mouth, letting it go past my teeth – _like a gag_.

I had to cross my legs now and he surely had noticed it.

However, the moment I was silent, the quicker his hands began to explore my body once again. And he started with snapping my button-down shirt open… bit by bit.

_Snap!_

 

He took his goddamn time, pulling each button, as I tried to look away from the manner his tongue dangled hungrily from his mouth as my flesh was slowly being exposed.

 

_Snap!_

 

His hands were rough as they pulled on the white fabric covering my chest, tugging my body towards him with every movement. At one point, I swore I felt one of the buttons burst – as it careened in the air and landed to the ground with a plastic-sounding flop.

 

_Snap!_

 

By the time he had worked his way down, all that was standing in between his hands and my sensitive tits, were my thin, cotton-white brassiere.

The Officer gritted his teeth.

“You do have excellent taste in lingerie, my precious little authoress,” he whispered, those blue eyes gazing down at mine. “But I’m afraid that this beauty would have to go.”

I couldn’t describe how fast those fingers worked.

Next thing I knew, the bra has been twisted out of the way, freeing my breasts from its confines. I couldn’t believe how hungry his face looked. Writing about the muse defiling a character is one thing. But seeing the muse actually wanting to defile you…

Well it’s a whole different situation.

The bastard whistled low.

“Well no wonder you could perfectly describe the shape of a woman’s breasts,” he growled as I gritted my teeth and let out a small strained moan when he filled one large hand with my breast. “You’ve got perfect models to draw inspiration from, darling.”

My head started to spin as I can feel my tits growing harder against the middle of his palm.

I shifted against him, wanting to shake off his hands from my mounds, but he seemed to enjoy this even more. I didn’t want to mention how he hungrily looked at them as I tried to be free of my bonds. However, I didn’t realize that the more I thrashed, the more he became hungrier…

A moan escaped my gag when he leaned down and captured one of my tits in between his teeth.

I felt him hum against my skin when a very visible shudder went through my body. It didn’t help that the cold air made those nipples even more erect, coupled with the wet lashings of his tongue. I had to close my eyes in complete frustration of all sorts and press them against my inner forearm as he lapped and licked at my chest, causing my knees to throb with even more need…

“Exquisite,” he whispered once he was done, with both solid teats trapped between his thumb and index finger.

I glared at him, unable to speak. However, I wasn’t able to hide how my body twitched with every movement of his finger against them. Or the fact that I’ve been crossing my legs every time he tried to brush his crotch against mine.

“However, I believe there is something more exquisite than these babies,” he spoke as if he was tenderly whispering to my chest. Leaving one chaste little kiss on top of one of my breasts (this perverted fool), he slowly rose to his height again as he moved my head from its position of being smothered against my inner forearm, trying to get a glimpse of my pained expression of strained pleasure.

“Don’t you want to find out?” he whispered as his hand descended from my face once more.

Apparently, his hands found my exposed ass again.

I had to twist my head upwards, forcing myself to look into those blue eyes full of lust as he started kneading the cheeks of my posterior; enjoying the way my skin felt against his hands, and how the flesh filled up his fingers.

“Such a delicious temptress,” he groaned as he watched how I slowly give in to his coaxing hands. “No wonder you could produce such erotic passages…”

I don’t know why I kept avoiding his eyes.

I didn’t want to give myself away, I guess?

This didn’t make him happy though. I could tell as he grunted, before leaning down to roughly kiss me through the gag made by his necktie… as he angrily sucked my mouth. I had to moan through the cloth blocking my mouth when he started to hungrily suckle on my lower lip instead. Had I realized that this was a distraction since his hands moved from my ass to cup my slit, I would have attempted to bite his lip in return.

“Already so wet,” he groaned as one long finger began to draw a stripe, tracing my slit. “I could only expect the best from my favorite kink writer,” he chuckled as he whispered in my ear. “And I could only hope that our little _reenactments_ would mean more _tempting_ novels for me in the future…”

Blinking, I turned to look at him in surprise.

Before I can completely react, he pulled me close again, this time slipping a full hand down the back of my black lace panties, those long digits searching for my clit. I moaned hard against the gag keeping my mouth closed.

“Yes, my darling,” he said through gritted teeth. “I do intend for you to write –“

I felt my feet being kicked apart by those thick leather boots as his hands began to probe deeper, this time two fingers parting my dripping slit. I let out a gasp against the now drenched gag that had been catching my saliva the entire time, as those two gifted fingers began to stroke deeper against my slit, drenching my panties even more.

It didn’t help that he was doing it from the back as he pushed me closer against his body, my entire torso shaking now as I try to hold onto the position afforded for me by my knotted wrists, as I felt his throbbing bulge now brushing up against my Venus mound. It didn’t help how the flat of his palm was also kneading my ass, while his two fingers slowly probed the entrance to my cunt…

 

“ ** _I want you to write all of this for me._** ”

 

My entire body began to tremble as he managed to part my slit and insert two of his already soaked fingers inside of me, taking note to insert another one to simulate some sort of _girth_. I groaned against his shoulder the moment he did so, and I could feel him tremble in anticipation.

You should have seen how we looked like: A grown man, about six feet tall or more, erotically bent over a curvy woman who stood before him with her hands tied up in the air, with her legs wide open. I could feel him shift around my languishing body so he could stroke my walls even deeper, moving my panties aside so he can further insert his fingers soaked to the knuckles with my juices.

It didn’t seem to help with how his other hand cradled the swell of my ass, stroking underneath the curve of my cheeks. I had to shut my eyes and hang my head down the moment he sensed how I tightened around his fingers, coercing him this time to _thrust._

_Thwop._

_Thwop._

_Thwop._

 

The obscene sound his thrusting fingers made was all I could hear. The slick noise of fingers slipping in and out of my sore and needy cunt echoed throughout the interrogation room. I began to shift around my heels, trying to find my footing as my knees and thighs began to shake. I was so thankful that the rope suspension was supporting my stance, or else I would have literally melted on the floor with the way his delicious fingers assaulted the insides of my slit, just as I have said earlier.

Unbeknownst to my instructor, it was starting to feel good – it was starting to feel _amazing_.

I had to squint my eyes shut as I began to give in to the rhythm of my body, unashamed of what could happen next. He could fuck me standing up for all I care – after all who wouldn’t say no to a stroking _that good_? Seriously, I was right. Those goddamn long digits could work wonders. Who knew I would actually be fucking those fingers I often see wrapped around a gun on TV?

However, my instructor seemed to know what I was thinking, given that knowing lustful smile on his face.

“Don’t you love being dirty like this, doll?” he whispered close to me, his lips near my exposed chest. “Don’t you love being so kinky?”

I had to squint away and groan as he gave a sharp thrust upwards as he canted _all three of his fingers_ , causing my knees to buckle.

“Oh,” he let out this erotic groan. “I know you do –“

He closed his eyes and wrapped his lips upon another nipple.

I cried out against that gagged necktie around my mouth.

He was merciless now – with both his mouth and his fingers. He was slurping up one bouncing tit, wrapping his tongue around a swollen nipple, as his fingers moved faster within me. My body was completely bent over his figure now, with my head resting upon his shoulder, and my saliva now dripping from his makeshift gag.

The fingers of his free hand dug deep in my ass, leaving behind moon-shaped crests on my healthy cheeks. And the sounds we both made were so obscene – his slurping, his fingers inside my cunt, the guttural groaning coming from my gagged mouth –

It wasn’t long till my hips began to move by itself, _fucking his fingers_.

My hips were moving so fast, meeting every thrust he did with his digits, the insides of my cunt eating them up to the knuckles.

The moment my trembling thighs trapped his hand, I felt his thrusting slow down.

Gently opening my tear-stained eyes, I found myself looking at him glaring at me. “Don’t you dare come before I tell you to,” he said gruffly, teeth bared against my tit.

 

I nodded, not wanting to make my instructor angry.

However, my body already had a mind of its own.

And hell, it ain’t going to obey him.

Before I could stop myself, my insides started trembling as I wasn’t able to control this gush that erupted from my cunt – drenching his fingers.

 

He grunted loudly.

 

I knew this didn’t sound good.

 

He removed his fingers from within me, as I loudly groaned my distaste of being parted from him – any part of him really. However, I did not expect how he would quickly rise to his feet as he twisted me around, as my wrists were tied to the suspended contraption when he suddenly slapped my ass.

I bent my body over, relishing the pain and the pleasure. I didn’t see how he was red in the face, the bulge in his pants getting thicker, as he hungrily looked from his soaked fingers – to my dripping cunt.

“Such a bad girl,” he whispered, causing me to turn my head around as I strained to look at him over my shoulder.

The sight of him would have made me squirt all over the table as well.

Apparently, the bastard just slipped the three fingers right into his mouth, sucking off my juices from them with one long movement. He released his fingers from his mouth with a loud pop.

I felt my pussy twitch once more.

My pupils dilated when I saw the predator coming for me, as he began to unbuckle his long, thick belt.

 

“ _You need to be punished._ ”

 

I didn’t expect that the suspended rope contraption could be extended. I didn’t see how he fumbled for the remote in his pockets, causing for it to slowly lower itself, allowing me to relax my strained shoulders.

What I didn’t expect was that he’d push me on the flat table right in front of us, bending me over in such a manner that my ass was put out and ready for whatever he was planning.

“Nevermind the gag,” he growled as he ceremoniously kneaded both the cheeks of my posteror, before stepping back. I fucking swear I heard the sound of leather hitting his thigh. “I want you to count to five.”

Oh boy.

 

My voice was muffled when I called out the first number.

_Thwack!_

 

I could relish the pain that spread all over my ass, but the pleasure it delivered reverberated all over my body. I started seeing white and I could feel another climax building up on my insides. Apparently, the instructor wasn’t done as well.

 

I cried out the second number.

_Thwack!_

 

I wished I could see him now. How the sweat dripped down his brow, how his muscles contracted as he drew back his arm to throw down the belt –

It just wasn’t fair that I was somewhat thoroughly exposed and that sexy bastard wasn’t.

 

I called out the third number.

_Thwack!_

 

I was definitely starting to enjoy this. I had no idea how my cheeks were as red as my ass. I had no idea how red he was in the face either. And I definitely had no inkling how purplish that cock was inside of those trousers and it was in dire need to fuck something.

Like my swollen, fingered vag.

 

I cried out the fourth number.

_Thwack!_

I felt my thighs twitch. I am certain he saw it too.

 

With a creaking, muffled voice, I gasped out the fifth number.

The Instructor heaved loudly.

 

_Thwack!_

 

The sound of the leather belt was heard dropping on the floor. I tried to look over my shoulder once more as I lay flat on the table, my hands still held above my head on the table, tied to the lowered suspension rope. I heard him fall down on the chair behind me with a huff, as I could hear his loud labored breathing.

As I try to catch my breath, knowing my sexually driven instructor is just sitting behind me, with my goddamn dripping cunt exposed to him; I knew I had to somewhat get up before I could lose what’s left of my dignity.

What I didn’t expect the moment I turned around to face him, was to find his face flushed as he held his thick purplish cock in his hand, stroking it hard as he watched me lying on the table, wet and ready for him.

Something within me stirred.

“Were not done yet,” he grunted, those blue eyes growing clouded with lust once more.

 

 

***

 

 

It was fucking thick.

Not just it was fucking long, but it was also _fucking thick_.

It was even more than what I fantasized about while writing those kinky stories of men with thick, purplish-headed monster penises digging and plowing inside unbeknownst yet happy swollen cunts. This one was the Zeus of All Phalluses that one could ever dreamt of, and I was pretty sure that this baby would tear a hole into my womb and impregnate me with a 150% chance, if you don’t mind me speaking in complete vulgarity.

But I was sure that I would enjoy the shit out of this.

This wasn’t the workshop I expected.

But as I looked at the man, with the sweat running down his veined neck, those blue eyes drowning with lust, and his delicious abs now almost showing through the thin fabric of his dress shirt because of the sweat he worked up… I see him holding that throbbing member and I just…

This was definitely the kind of fucking that I dreamt of.

Probably even written about.

And speaking of pregnancy, I hope that goddamn Amelia would cover my birth control plan. Not that I’m complaining about the cause though.

I didn’t expect that we’d end up fucking, you know. From the time he stripped me down with his so-called “security check” and to the moment he spanked me the last time, I thought all of this was teasing.

But after everything he did to me?

After that delicious finger fucking he gave me?

 

I was ready to be fucked.

 

There was no going back now.

 

I was surprised with the gentle way he lifted me from the table, as he turned my body around to face him, causing my wrists to stay up in knots with the rope suspension still holding them into place. But still, he didn’t free me from my bondage, restricting me from my movements – still making me completely at his mercy.

But the moment he sat down on the chair and looked up at me with those eyes drowning in lust and hunger, and I realized that I was going to go _on_ his member. I felt my insides twitch once more.

Pressing a button on that tiny remote, he had the rope suspension rise up on the ceiling again, halting it in such a way that my arms were hoisted up in the air once more.

Once I was ready, he showed a brutal amount of strength by picking me up by the ass and gently positioning me on the head of his shaft – intending to sink me on the whole length of it.

I just didn’t expect him to hold me still in midair as he began to thrust his cock against the entrance of my cunt, rubbing his shaft repeatedly against my juices, not intending to penetrate me just yet.

I let out a shrill cry, still trapped by that ever-faithful gag.

I was sure that he’ll never get to use that necktie again.

He had a tremendous show of power as he began to lift me up and down against the tip of his throbbing cock, letting his cock’s head smear against the insides of my slit, as it nudged my clit so slightly; but depraving me from the privilege of filling my cunt up with his girth.

Apparently, that bastard muse was a tremendous tease.

He grunted and growled, yet he did not say a word the entire time he was mechanically getting me to frot his cock. And yet he had no idea how beautiful he was, looking at me through half-lidded eyes as he gasped through gritted teeth, demonstrating his power by having his arms do all the work I would have been doing given that I have the proper upper body strength with my hands all tied up.

Honestly, I would have grinded on his cock even if he didn’t ask. I really didn’t need any help. And yet, there I was, tears flowing down my face due to the frustration of having a cock so close to my throbbing pussy – and yet the fucking tease won’t give it to me.

“Oh God you’re so wet,” the instructor moaned, as an evil smile appeared on that gaunt face, highlighting his stupid high cheekbones. God please give me the power to fuck this man’s face. Maybe someday.

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he moaned, as he moved his hips upward to meet my cunt. Still, he didn’t stick it in. Motherfucking tease. “Should I give you your prize?”

I don’t understand _how_ on earth did I make that sniveling cry with the gag still blocking my teeth.

At this point, his cock would have been drenched with my fluids. If he managed to lift me from the repeated grinding he had been doing against his disgustingly thick girth, a long line of mucus would have connected the tip of his precum to the juice dripping from my folds. At this point, filling me in with that throbbing meat stick would be so easy. I wasn’t even sure if it would fit.

But when my eyes cleared from all the tears I’ve shed out of the feelings of sexual frustration he had meant to make me experience since the start of this goddamn “workshop” (Apparently, that’s what he meant); I suddenly found myself staring into these two concerned-looking blue eyes, wondering if I’m still up for the whole good run.

Despite being unable to speak, I clearly looked straight at him – bravely looking deep into those blues, telling him that _this is what I came for_.

And so, this is what I will definitely _come_ for.

I found the man gritting his teeth as he positioned my entrance against the tip of his girth.

My breath hitched when he gently released his tight hold on my hips, allowing my cunt to slowly eat up the head of his cock.

I threw my head back and moaned as gravity did its work, allowing me to sink down the whole length of it. I had the pleasure of watching his etched expression: that beautiful face strained as he clenched his jaw, his shaft throbbing as it neatly slid inside of me, allowing me to be seated snugly on the base of his lap once it was done.

“ _Ohhhhh_ ,” He let out this deep guttural groan the moment his head hit the entrance of my womb, as for a moment – his instructor persona melted away. He leaned back on his chair, savoring the warmth of my tight walls caressing his girth.

I let out this loud gasp as my head sank against his shoulder, trying to ignore how my clothes were hopelessly drenched with sweat and juices ( _his_ and _mine_ ), my skirt still bunched on my hip, and how my shirt must have loose hems after being utterly stretched with my arms held high up above my head.

To my surprise, the Officer sat up and dragged me to a straighter sitting position with him, as he removed his hands from my waist and quickly untied my wrists from the suspended rope contraption. I shook them as I sat on his lap, glad to have the circulation flowing back within them again. I was also surprised how his hands gently smoothed through the length of my hair as he untied the gag still wrapped around my mouth and teeth, throwing it on the floor next to his belt.

I had free reign now with my restrictions removed.

I just couldn’t believe that the first thing did with my limbs free and my mouth ungagged was to grab the bastard face and kiss him deeply.

He responded hungrily as he bent my body and rocked me back and forth on the chair, slipping his tongue inside my mouth, slurping and sucking my lips as roughly as he pleased.

However, the moment I managed to use what’s left of my remaining strength to slam him against the back of the chair, I managed to somewhat turn the tables on him. Figuratively.

The fucking teaser began to moan in my mouth as I frustratingly pulled and smothered at his green dress shirt with my fingers, snogging his lips as if I were to erase them from his face. With my hands’ turn to roam, I let them trace the column of his neck, the frame of his face, before resting on the tuft of curly hair on his head.

And that was when I tangled my fingers on those curls and pulled.

 

“ _Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!_ ”

 

I raised my hips from his lap, my cunt traversing the length of his cock, before slamming it down in full force.

The motherfucker let out a sharp cry.

Without removing my lips from his face, I began to fuck his fully erect cock by repeatedly bringing down my cunt on its whole length and then dragging it up again. With my thighs resting on either side of his lap, I could hear my heels hitting the legs of the chair every single time I bring my cunt down the base of his cock.

 

_Thwop!_

_Thwop!_

_Thwop!_

I released his mouth to give him space to breathe, as I managed to clamp my teeth down on his lower lip. It was some sort of revenge with what he did me earlier.

The unearthly moan that escaped his mouth was priceless.

As I continued my ministrations over the length of his healthy girth, the man eventually lost control as he dug his fingers into the back of my shirt, bending me over his lap as his own hips began to do the thrusting.

With every thrust, I began to see stars.

And to be honest, his three fingers that were earlier invading my cunt could not compare to the thick, meaty, veined shaft that was filling me up to the brim repeatedly as he rocked me back and forth on his lap, wanting desperately to explode within me.

But at that moment, at that exact moment when I was slowly nearing sexual climax, there was only one thing on my mind --

I forgot about my duty.

I forgot about my boss.

I forgot about how she somewhat lied to me.

I forgot about the misleading nature of this whole event.

I forgot about how rough my “instructor” was.

All I could think about was –

 

**_“How can this goddamn sexually satisfying workshop be for three days only?!!”_ **

 

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt his cock thicken within me, knowing that anytime soon – we’d both have to cum.

I felt myself cry out as the man managed to grunt and then sink his teeth on the side of my neck, as he completely emptied himself inside of me.

My thighs twitched twice as he rocked me back and forth on the tortured chair, as I felt my cunt throb all around him before the tremors within me slowly disappeared…

My fingers loosened around his hair as his hands smoothed down my back.

I lay within my instructor’s arms for a moment, before I completely lost consciousness.

 

 

***

 

 

He was fully dressed when he emerged from the workshop room, albeit the lack of a tie and his thick leather belt. Both were neatly folded in one hand, and he held his mobile phone in the other.

Once the door is closed, and ensuring no one was in the hallway, he found himself letting out this huge exhausted yet satisfied sigh as he turned his back against the white wall and slid down the floor, almost looking like an emaciated puddle of muscle and bones. However, a content smile could be on his face as he sat up with his long legs stretched out on the marble tiles, as he dialed a few numbers on his phone.

“It’s fine, _we’re fine,_ ” that crisp English accent spoke to someone. “She turned up.”

Someone could be heard speaking on the other line, as his expression changed to something of ecstasy and relief as he used his other hand to cover half of his face.

“She’s as bloody good and _hella’_ sexy as I imagined.”

He slipped his hand down his face as he consciously began to stroke his neck, a trait he would usually do when he’s turned on.

“Let’s just hope I’d be the spark to rekindle her creative fire,” he whispered to the phone.

A knowingly mischievous smile appeared on that handsome face.

“I always wanted to remain as the spark to that beautiful flame anyway.”

 

 

***

 

 

I woke up in a neat-smelling room.

In fact, it smelled of fresh paint. I don’t want to question that.

I rose from the bed looking at my neatly dressed self, without any trace of bodily fluids at all, though I can smell dry sweat from my clothing. I looked to the side and found a nightstand with my purse on it, along with a clock that read 5:30pm.

Can you believe it?

I actually spent eight hours in this workshop?

 

I blinked twice and remembered what I _actually_ did.

 

I felt my pussy twitch twice.

 

I shake my head and got off the bed, wondering where my _hot instructor_ went off to.

But seriously? How on earth did they get that guy? I bet getting him to participate in such a thing would cost this whole “workshop company” a fortune. Might even get them bankrupt. I scratch my head as I tousled my hair to make myself more presentable. I continued to think… I mean what could Amelia know about this? And all of this just to restore my interest in writing? Sheesh!

_...but what if all of this was set up just to restore my interest in that lost muse?_

 

I shuddered.

As soon as I see him outside of these walls, the better. I need him to do some explaining for me.

I stepped out of the room and realized that it was the same hallway where that female tall glass of water led me, except that I emerged from another door different from the one I entered earlier. I passed by the door to the so-called “interrogation room” as I find myself trying to turn the handle…

The door was locked.

That’s when I hear someone formally calling my name.

“Miss!”

It happened to be the hot secretary trying to get my attention. I approach the desk where she was working on, filled with folders and files that were too confidential for me actually to pay attention to. In fact, with my head spinning, I barely would have even noticed any of them. However, the moment I got closer, I was greeted with a curt smile as she handed over a plain white card.

Holding the purse under my arm, I turned the card around only to find one word written on it.

“You will be expected for your second session next week,” she spoke without looking up. “Same time.”

I gestured at the card. “What is this?”

She looked up from her glasses and said to you without grinning, “Your safeword. Make sure to keep it.”

The word was _Shakespeare._


End file.
